


Organic

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Markus plays.
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Organic

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His finger falls on the final key, but he’s thinking too much, and the pressure’s too perfect: the note sounds mechanical, even to him. The song ends on that chord, lingering as he keeps it depressed, almost haunting in its emptiness. He’s played that one a hundred times. Carl always claimed to like it, and once upon a time, Markus did too. 

Now it’s stale. He lets the note die away and spreads his fingers across the pearly whites of Carl’s grand piano, a thousand scores scrolling behind his eyes. None of them feel quite right. He’s played them all. Carl says he plays well, but perhaps Markus plays a little _too_ well. Suddenly, in his newly awakened form, he can relate to the sad sentiment Carl shared before the revolution: _he has nothing left to say anymore._

“You play beautifully.”

Markus glances up, though he already knows who’s standing across the room—Simon’s emerged from the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist. He’s taken over Carl’s meals, even though Markus is perfectly capable, as is the android who replaced him. But Simon wants something to do, and he’s an excellent cook. An excellent partner. And excellent _everything_. He looks right at home in Carl’s garish living room, perfectly aligned with all the elaborate detail, because like the sculptures and paintings and antique furniture, Simon is pure _art_. He gives Markus a little smile, and Markus finds it hard to argue, even though he knows Simon’s wrong. 

Maybe Simon can see the difficulty in Markus’ face. He isn’t consciously emulating any expression, but he’s fallen so far into deviancy that protocols come and go without any warning. Simon moves forward, strolling slowly around the couches, over to the corner, around the piano to lay his hand on Markus’ shoulder. Markus’ gaze drifts to it. He wants to hold it, but his hands stay on the piano. 

They’re touching but not _interfacing_. They’re always linked, more intrinsically than any other androids, far deeper than the simple lines of communication Markus keeps with Josh and North. But Simon’s not immediately in his thoughts, and Markus doesn’t have to share them.

He does anyway, because he shares his whole life with Simon. “Any android could play that.”

“No,” Simon hums, like they’re not all machines with pre-programmed talent. “Not like you.”

Markus looks at him. Just stares into his blue eyes. Simon’s smile is warm, welcoming, full of adoration. Markus has thought more than once that he doesn’t deserve such unadulterated _love_ , but Simon gives it to him anyway. 

Markus orders without thinking, “Kiss me.”

Simon bends down like the command’s come from his master. Markus is, at least, the new owner of his heart. Their lips brush, and Markus tilts his head, opening enough to swipe his tongue along Simon’s bottom lip. Simon opens wide for him, inviting the touch. 

The kiss lasts only a few seconds, but it’s enough. All at once, _inspiration_ bursts into him, racing along his circuits like thirium-based adrenaline. When he pulls back, he murmurs, “This one’s for you.”

Simon’s grin is glorious. Markus returns to the keys and belts out a melody based on nothing but that feeling.

Thundering music fills the house, but it’s the hand on Markus’ shoulder that makes him feel _alive_.


End file.
